


Making a Home

by Hawkeye733



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Adoption, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Post Game, Protective Hawke, Red Hawke, Starts dark but it's so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye733/pseuds/Hawkeye733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke has always been fiercely protective of his friends and his family, so after he and Fenris leave the destruction of Kirkwall behind them there's something missing in their new solitary life. A hunt turns bad and a young child is left alone, but even Fenris is surprised by Hawke's reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making a Home

“Just, stay there. Trust me, I’ll come back.” Fenris didn’t have much time, but he pulled together all the sincerity he could show into his plea. Something must have come across, because the wide, scared eyes looked up at him for a moment, then the child sat down on the same spot he had hastily removed her to. Fenris briefly looked over her once more, making sure she wouldn’t move, and then he swung around back to the camp.

All this had occurred in a few heartbeats. He would know, as they were pounding in his chest.

It was a short fight, but a bloody one. Fenris had first heard word of the slavers some days ago but it had been sheer bad luck that they had chosen to head west out of Kirkwall. Bad luck for them, as it led them straight towards the small homestead Hawke and Fenris had made their own. The reports Fenris had heard were that they were only a small band but had been cleverly hitting isolated farms, meaning that reports of people missing would take longer to get around.

Hawke had been occupied with the pressing need to reply to letters from Kirkwall, news on the aftermath of the rebellion and how their friends were doing. Varric had a way of getting information to them that he wouldn’t share for security reasons, so Fenris had slipped out to deal with the small band of slavers alone. All would have gone well, except that despite his best efforts the camp had been alerted to his presence and when he burst out on them, they already had some of their kidnap victims held at knifepoint.

Fenris had watched in horror as one person at their mercy cried out ‘I choose death over what you’re going to do with us’. She had turned quickly on the one slaver holding her and he had been just as fast to slit her throat. It was all Fenris could do to use that terrible sacrifice as a distraction to make his move and sure enough, his blade sank true into the throat of the next slaver.

But when the battle was done, those few captives whose blood had not been spilt in some wild last stand for power – for which Fenris had not been merciful towards their captors – had run swiftly off to the shelter of the forest and hadn’t looked back. That left Fenris looking around the messy aftermath, and after a short time his ears picked up the faint wailing of an uncertain sob, a whimper trying to be stifled.

He retraced his steps to the place he had left her and after a few gentle words convinced her to come out and follow him in the opposite direction. His only thought was that he couldn’t let her see the macabre remains of the battle ground. He didn’t dare risk that she would see something that might stay with her for the rest of her life. When the small cottage he shared with Hawke came into view he once again thanked the fortune that this party had set up camp so nearby.

He called out to Hawke as he approached the door, hoping to give him some warning, but there was no reply. He pushed the door open to find the man sat at his desk, thoroughly absorbed in the process of darning his jerkin. The smell of tar clung to his clothes, prompting Fenris to look up and see that the hole that had lifted and widened wince they moved in had been fixed.

“You’ve been productive. The roof’s looking good, though you could have waited until I was back to help.”

Hawke barely glanced up as he shook his head. “I managed it just fine. You shouldn’t worry.”

“And you should remember you’ve got someone to look after you too.” Fenris smiled as they resumed the familiar argument. Hawke still struggled with the fact he had been the responsible man of his family for many years now and that now, he might not have to be so protective. Or so solitary.

It had placed an increasing burden on the busy man when the leaders of Kirkwall had started leaning on him to solve their many problems. Yet Hawke had thrived. Now though, there was little for them to do. They had gone from the machinations and politics of a Kirkwall on the brink of civil war, to an isolated cottage with just the two of them. What Hawke really needed was people. Someone who looked up to him for answers.

The little girl seemed unusually quiet as she hovered behind Fenris’ legs, compared to what he expected of a child that age. Fenris grinned widely as a terrible and perfect idea took hold in his mind, and he knew just how to approach it.

“It’s quiet around here.” He said. Hawke still didn’t look up.

“I thought you liked it.”

“You know I do, Hawke. You gave me somewhere I can call my own. Our own.”

“You took it for yourself, I didn’t give you anything.” Hawke would never stand for Fenris being self-deprecating, or shying away from praise. It was a trait Fenris still wasn’t used to, after all these years, and it never stopped making him feel like he could stand just that little bit straighter.

“We have our house, and with work it’s improving every day, it’s even beginning to feel like we really live here. But you need something more to make it feel like a home.” At that, Hawke glanced up, his brow creased in a puzzled frown. “I know you do, don’t try and hide it from me.” Fenris continued anyway.

“We have a home, isn’t that what you just said?” He looked back down. Fenris was sure he still hadn’t noticed the small figure stood behind his legs, as his sharp gaze was drawn only to Fenris’ face.

“I know you miss your brother. And sister.” All these years later and the mention of Hawke’s sister still caused pain to flare across the mage’s face. “You have always been this greater figure in other people’s lives. You can’t let that go, it’s what you do best.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Hawke spoke quietly, and even in that Fenris knew, all too well, the emotion he was hiding. The years had given him insight into Hawke’s moods, even when the mage didn’t realise what he was giving away.

But as he looked fondly on the man before him, he suddenly realised that the child hadn’t been quietly standing behind him, but had chosen to wander around the small area of their cabin. Fenris noticed her movement just as she walked quite deliberately over to Hawke and put her hand on his knee, appearing almost from underneath his sewing task.

“Fenris…?” Hawke began, but his eyes were looking straight at the child. Fenris knew that unconsciously piercing glare of Hawke’s and he expected the girl to cower away from it. Instead she looked curiously back at him, giving as good as she got. Fenris felt strangely proud of her courage.

“The slavers killed her parents, she’s been left alone,” he said, realising his blunder as the girl turned suddenly towards him from across the room. She regarded him with wide eyes, but there was no shock there, just scared acceptance. Fenris’ stomach churned with the memories her expression brought to his mind. He lifted his eyes to meet Hawke’s and was taken aback to see the mage frowning reprovingly. “She needs us.”

Then with a change of expression so fast Fenris could almost have believed he had always been wearing the gentle smile, Hawke turned to look on the girl.

“What’s your name, little one? How old are you?”

“I’m Briony. I’m 5 and a quarter years.” She spoke up to Hawke, no fear at all.

Fenris was lost, staring for a moment at the warm smile on Hawke’s face before he realised he’d stopped breathing. The genuine care in the big man’s eyes was overwhelming. Perhaps he had been more right than he realised when he’d suggested that Hawke needed someone to look after.

“Well Briony, tell me, what’s your favourite colour?” Hawke continued and he moved his hand so his fingers covered the young girl’s hand on his knee. It was so simple, so natural and all Fenris wanted was to sit back and watch them. This was a younger Hawke than he had ever seen. The boy grown into a man who had looked after his siblings, his worries simply melted from his face because the most important thing right there was making sure young Briony felt safe and happy.

Fenris felt a great swelling of emotion for this man who usually kept this tender side hidden because it was the thing that the world could use against him. But Hawke had enough love in him that it filled the room, warming the small shack where just Fenris and Briony were able to be touched by it. The little girl looked comfortable, not at all worried by the big man who could strike terror into his enemies. Fenris knew she wasn’t going any further than this house. Together, just like that, they had a home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a giveaway for [lunaahawke](http://lunaahawke.tumblr.com) for following the [Fenhawke Archive](http://fenhawkearchive.tumblr.com)  
> I loved the prompt, and it was interesting to give both Male and Red Hawke a try. I hope you enjoyed it


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